


Part 4: Michael

by oiuytrewq36



Series: We Will Survive [4]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:40:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25959931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oiuytrewq36/pseuds/oiuytrewq36
Summary: Here’s the thing you need to understand about Brian: the fact that he’s an asshole has nothing to do with his screwed-up views on relationships, and vice versa. I fully believe that if Brian had grown up in a stable, loving home with normal, non-abusive parents, he would have still spent his twenties fucking his way through Pittsburgh without a care in the world. The obsessions with money, beauty, power, never showing weakness - those probably come from some Freudian bullshit related to his childhood, but his competitive spirit and seemingly bottomless (well, definitely not bottomless, if you know what I mean) libido are pure Brian Kinney, no hellish family required.
Relationships: Ben Bruckner/Michael Novotny, Brian Kinney/Justin Taylor (Queer as Folk), Ted Schmidt/Blake Wyzecki
Series: We Will Survive [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1881736
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	Part 4: Michael

Here’s the thing you need to understand about Brian: the fact that he’s an asshole has nothing to do with his screwed-up views on relationships, and vice versa. I fully believe that if Brian had grown up in a stable, loving home with normal, non-abusive parents, he would have still spent his twenties fucking his way through Pittsburgh without a care in the world. The obsessions with money, beauty, power, never showing weakness - those probably come from some Freudian bullshit related to his childhood, but his competitive spirit and seemingly bottomless (well, definitely not bottomless, if you know what I mean) libido are pure Brian Kinney, no hellish family required.

I was worried when Justin left that Brian would revert to his old self, and I was pleasantly surprised when he didn’t. Six months in, it’s still beyond weird to see Brian turning down a trick because he has a phone call scheduled with Justin - it doesn’t happen that often, but it happens - and I’m happy for him. It’s good for both of them that they’re together, I have enough distance to see that now. They each need someone who glows as brightly as they do, and that’s not the kind of relationship everyone’s cut out for.

Woody’s is packed tonight, but Emmett got there early and staked out the pool table. Not that Emmett plays pool (the closest he gets is when he arrives at the Streisand-singing level of drunkenness and pretends one of the cues is a parasol while regaling us with “Put On Your Sunday Clothes”) but when you’ve been drinking with your friends in the same spot for ten years, it’s hard to break the habit, I guess. Now Brian and I are playing, pleasantly stoned from the joint we shared outside, and it feels almost like the old days, but better.

Ben comes over with two beers, and I say my daily thanks to whatever deity saw fit to bless me with a hot professor who brings me drinks and is freakishly tolerant of my annoying friends.

“Having fun?” he says, looping one arm around me from behind.

I lean back into him. “Yes, dear.”

He chuckles. “Hunter called, by the way. He says he’ll be home late tonight because he has to study with his chemistry lab partner.”

“They’re having se-ex,” Brian singsongs from across the pool table as he sinks three balls with one shot - prick - and takes a drink of his scotch.

I pick up my cue, line up my shot, and clip the ball I meant to hit head-on. “Probably.”

Behind me, Ben says, “We should buy him some more condoms on the way home.”

Brian snorts. “Christ. Kids these days don’t know how good they have it.” He balances his cue, takes aim-

And Justin steps out from behind a pillar and says, “Complaining about the youth? You really are old.”

Brain jumps about a foot in the air, missing his shot spectacularly. He spins around, grabs the front of Justin’s sweatshirt, pushes him up against the pool table, and frenches him viciously before pulling back.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Justin looks very calm for someone who, I’d estimate, has about a fifty-fifty chance of being fucked on top of the pool table in the next three minutes. He smirks.

“Toby asked if I’d trade my shifts for the next two days, so I decided to come down here and relieve you from pining for me for a weekend.”

“Pining? Fuck off,” Brian says, grinning. Justin laughs and nudges their faces closer together. He turns to look at me and Ben. “Hi, guys.”

“Hey, Justin,” I say. Ben waves.

“If you’ll excuse us,” Brian says, still staring at Justin, “we have some urgent business to attend to.” He grabs Justin’s hand and starts pulling him in the direction of the bathrooms. Justin looks back over his shoulder and mouths “Be back soon”, and I wave him off.

Ben and I look at each other and laugh. “Glad to see long-distance hasn’t slowed them down,” he says.

I drain the last of my beer. “I’m not sure a nuclear war could slow them down.”

“Slow who down?” Emmett asks, returning to our section of the floor with Ted and Blake in tow.

“Brian and Justin,” Ben says, and I add, “Justin’s here on a surprise visit.”

“Ah,” says Ted. “And now they’re drawing up a reunification treaty in the bathroom.” Blake laughs, and he and Ted share a look that makes me wonder if that’s an inside joke.

Ben starts to tell Ted about a seminar one of his colleagues is teaching about redesigning opera for modern audiences, and Blake asks Emmett something about the benefit they’ve been planning together to raise funds for harm-reduction education for gay teenagers. I lean back against my husband again and let the conversation fade into a comfortable background hum.

Eventually Brian and Justin reemerge from the bathroom, Justin with rumpled hair and a smug smile and Brian with a happy and vaguely dazed expression that would horrify him if I told him about it. I file the image away for use the next time he calls me a housewife.

Then Ted says, “Holy shit, it’s eleven already?”.

I look around at my friends. “Babylon?” Hunter won’t be back until late anyway, and it’s been too long since I’ve danced to a beat I could feel in my molars.

Brian slips an arm around Justin’s shoulders. “Thought you’d never ask.”


End file.
